


Witness Me, Old Man. I Am The Wild.

by deathhaul



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Stabigail Hobbs, let her stab people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathhaul/pseuds/deathhaul
Summary: Someone bleeds more than Abigail that morning in her kitchen.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Witness Me, Old Man. I Am The Wild.

It is a normal morning in the Hobbs kitchen, warm sunlight illuminates its yellow body. And then the phone rings. 

* * *

“Hello?”

“May I speak with Mr. Garret Jacob Hobbs? Please.” A voice says with an accent Abigail doesn’t recognize. 

“Just a second. Dad,” Abigail turns to hand the phone to him, somewhat confused. “It’s for you.”

“Who is it?” Her dad asks as he turns around to face his daughter. 

“Caller ID said it was blocked.” She explains simply, handing the phone to him. And returns to setting the table, like every other day. Abigail looks over at him as he ends the call, something isn’t right.

Abigail takes the phone back from her dad and hangs it up on the wall, he is tense and calculating. Something is wrong. Abigail watches her dad pick up a kitchen knife the second he collects himself, and then slit her mom’s throat. He drags her to the front door, throwing her outside like garbage. 

Abigail always knew he loved her more than he loved her mom. 

Garret returns from disposing her mom; he didn’t honor her, it was just murder. He looks at his daughter; a mix of sadness and readiness swim in his eyes. There is no more fawn to slay in her place, her lure has pulled herself right to slaughter. He is already red with blood, but not a deer's blood this time. She never watched him slaughter the other girls, now she would finally get her chance to. He walks to her, tears in his eyes. 

“Dad,” Abigail tries to talk to him, there is no talking to him when he gets this way. “Please. No, no, no.” She whimpers. Abigail rounds the table, putting distance between the two of them. The small folded pocket knife calls to her, it is tucked safely inside her jean pocket. 

_“Use me.”_ It whispers to her. _“It was always you or someone else. He will do it, just as he’s done it before.”_

He rounds the table quickly, grabbing her and pulling her to himself. Abigail tugs the blade out and opens it, slicing at his hand. He drops his grip on her and looks at the red growing from the cut, a mix of pride and betrayal flash in his eyes.

If it was a wound on anyone else he would have kissed her forehead and told her how good a job she did. 

Abigail’s entire body is shaking. Her grip is tight on her knife and so is her dad’s grip on his knife. Her dad charges at her, slicing his blade in the air. It makes contact with her throat softly, blood runs down her neck as she runs away from him.

Abigail is backed against the kitchen counter, her small blade no match for his. He adjusts his grip on the knife and walks towards her. He is growing less calm, anxiety building beneath his surface. 

She looks around frantically and eyes the knife holder, pulling out a kitchen knife quickly as he advances. He raises his knife to her one more time. 

The sound of the door being kicked in rings through their home. 

“Garret Jacob Hobbs! FBI!” A man yells. 

His blade is still in the air, stunned from shock. Abigail’s lip quivers, but she does what she has to do. She stabs her knife into the softness of his neck, and cuts brutally. Blood spews from his neck as he stumbles away from her, the same mixture of pride and betrayal shine in his eyes. 

He charges at her again and wide eyed she stabs the blade into his stomach, gutting him like the deers he taught her how to gut. He collapses on the floor against the kitchen counter. 

“See?” He looks up at her, smiling savagely as he bleeds out. Abigail shakes her head, confused and covered in blood as footsteps approach. “See.” The light and life drain for his eyes. He collapses fully, head slumping limply. 

“Dad.” Abigail whispers as her knife falls to the floor as she covers her mouth with her hands, tears roll down her face. 

There are footsteps behind her. She turns to see a man, short curly brown hair with glasses, holding a gun. He moves around her quickly to the body on the floor, going on his knees to take a pulse. 

He drops his hand away fast and a sob exhales from Abigail. Blood from her wound drips onto the floor and the noise causes him to look up at her, his eyes widen as he stands quickly. The man, who she presumes is the agent who kicked in their door, guides her to a chair and sits across from her, holding her bleeding wound closed. 

“Medics are coming, you’re going to be okay.” His words sound like they are underwater, Abigail is staring past him at the body of her dad. “Abigail,” She turns to look at him, almost shocked at hearing her own name. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” Abigail leans forward and rests her head on the strangers shoulder, she is weak. And before when she got weak her dad would be there to hold her. 

* * *

Hannibal Lecter looks down at Abigail’s dead mother as he moves into the house, past the door Will broke down. He can already smell the blood, he doesn't smell the hotness of a newly fired gun.

“It’s okay.” He can hear Will say, his voice sounds calm. Not the voice of a man who just killed someone. 

“How?” A female voice whimpers. The voice of someone who did. 

Hannibal steps into the kitchen, surveying the blood on the ground and the body of Hobbs, but not the one he expected. He studies the body quickly, no bullet wounds on the flesh and no shells litter the scene. Only two knives lay on the ground amidst all the blood. His eyes fall to Will, who is holding a bleeding wound on Hobbs’ daughter’s neck. Her hands and sleeves are covered with blood. 

* * *

Abigail perks up and lifts her head hearing a different set of footsteps approach her. 

“Will, let me.” Her blood runs cold as the man, who she now knows is Will, gets up out of the chair and the man who spoke sits across from her, replacing his hands over her wound. 

The man on the phone. 

“I will stay with her.” Will nods, finally anxiousness shows in his body language. “It isn’t a deep wound, she will be alright. Please wait outside for backup to arrive.”

Will nods, collecting his gun from the floor and retreats. She focuses on the man holding her throat. 

“I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” He explains, as if that is supposed to mean something to her. “You killed him, didn’t you?” Hannibal studies her with a curious expression.

“I had to.” She says beneath his hands. “He was going to kill me.” Abigail stares past Hannibal, still wondering why he called their home earlier, at her dad’s dead body. She didn’t honor him, it was just murder.“Goodbye dad.” She whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this small little Abigail fic. Because I think she should be allowed to have a little stab, as a treat.
> 
> Title is from- The Horror and The Wild (The Amazing Devil)


End file.
